


easy as always easy

by fracturedvaels



Series: tumblr prompts [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4188525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fracturedvaels/pseuds/fracturedvaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carver gets a crush, and Garrett is his usual unhelpful self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	easy as always easy

**Author's Note:**

> I have an obsession with Sebastian's hips, and thighs, and waist, and literally his whole body, and this might have come about because he Black-Widow-kicked an enemy in game and I've been obsessing over it ever since. Then one of my friends on Tumblr [sent me a message,](http://princetheirin.tumblr.com/post/121711089132/that-pic-tho-carver-must-be-swooning-at-those) and it spiraled into hell, and I am in hell and everything is on fire because it is hell.

Thirty thugs to the four of them. Easy. Easy as always easy, because Garrett was a blasted good mage, and Fenris was a blasted good warrior, and Carver was a blasted good Warden.

And Sebastian was a blasted good _something_.

Carver hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d been starring. He knew he’d been staring; all trip, he’d been staring. It was hard not to. Sebastian was lovely; his skin looked soft – a noble’s skin, kept baby-fine by years of good treatment and good living – and was only a hair lighter than Fenris’. His hair looked soft, too; it was the kind of hair Carver could see himself grabbing. He had the kind of neck Carver wanted to kiss, and hips and thighs that Isabela probably envied.

Maker, he was _lovely_.

Carver knew he’d be wanking into his hand long before the thugs surrounded them. Long before he saw Sebastian _really_ move. Long before he saw them fell all thirty of them, only for the _thirty first_ to show up, late to the party, crouching behind Sebastian while waited his turn for healing, while he checked his bow for dings and Garrett checked Fenris and Carver for cuts and bruises.

The man moved fast, too. The Coterie didn’t fuck around with training. He had Sebastian on the ground before any of them knew he was there.  
But Sebastian was quick.

Skilled and efficient; it was the kind of shit you’d expect in one of Varric’s more fast-paced novels. The man didn’t even have him pinned; his head was close to Sebastian’s knees when the archer lifted a leg, hooked it around his shoulders, and flipped them. With their positions switched – Sebastian kneeling over him, knees clamped on either side of his head – it was easy for him to twist them, to snap the man’s neck.

Maker, Carver groaned internally.   _Do me next_ , he silently pleaded, wishing he could suddenly start hearing his Calling and have a good excuse to crawl into a dark hole and _die_ (And he didn’t automatically think about _Sebastian’s_ , no, he didn’t; no, he was _better than that_ , Andraste blighted preserve him).

It wasn’t just impressive; the rest of them had barely drawn their weapons when Sebastian had gone down, and now he was kneeling over the corpse of a man he’d killed with his thighs.  
  
Lovely, lovely thighs.

Carver groaned outwardly, softly now, pressing a gauntlet to his face and trying to rub away mental images.

“Are you alright, Brother?” Garrett put a hand on Carver’s shoulder. It was a weight so heavy Carver wanted to be crushed under it, though not the same way he wanted his head to be crushed by Sebastian’s thighs.

“I’m fine. Just… fine.” The younger Hawke sighed, lowered his gauntlet, and almost screamed at the sight that greeted him. Sebastian was smirking – not at Carver, of course, but at a proudly beaming Fenris, and wiping blood off of his mouth.

“Well, that was exciting,” Sebastian sighed, stepping away from the dead man. He chanced a glance at the ground, looking for his lost bow; when he spotted it, of _course_ it was on the other side of the body, and of course he had to bend at the waist for it. Of _course_.

Carver must have made another noise, because Garrett squeezed his shoulder. He looked back to see the mage offering a sympathetic smile, and a small shake of the head. Carver mentally pleaded with him: _no, help me, please tell me this is a **bad idea**_. But the look exchanged was one they both knew well, and Carver would find no help from Garrett. Well, not the pulling-you-back-from-a-bad-idea kind of help; not the kind of help Carver needed.

He whined again, quieter this time, and scrubbed a hand over his face once more. Maker, he was a terrible, terrible man.


End file.
